


Leave a Light On

by GuardianQwerty



Series: Heid Collection  (Placeholder name) [4]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Addiction, Caring Hotch, Comfort, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Established Relationship, Hurt, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Narcotics, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianQwerty/pseuds/GuardianQwerty
Summary: They had an agreement, an agreement that if Reid needed help, Hotch would guide him out. But when an unsub subjects Reid to drugs once more, will he be able to crawl out of the darkness back to Hotch or will he fall victim to his addiction one final time?
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Series: Heid Collection  (Placeholder name) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878922
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	Leave a Light On

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is not connected to an episode. It is however inspired by one of my favourite songs called Leave a Light On by Tom Walker. I highly recommend listening to it while you read.

They had a silent agreement. He wouldn’t go to the young man, he would just leave a light on, an open invitation for Reid to find solace. Tonight, was one of those nights, Hotch knew for a fact that his light would be the guiding beacon that Reid needed to get back safe, because, well, it had been a brutal case. Reid had been cut off from the team and it was only for a few hours, but during that time the drug-induced psychotic unsub found the sobriety coin in his pocket. He threatened Reid with fentanyl, preyed on his vulnerabilities, beat and ridiculed him. Ultimately stripping him of his strength and resilience towards drugs. By the time they found him the unsub, Kyle Somers was about to inject the young doctor with a lethal dose of fentanyl and Reid had looked somewhere between totally fearful, to begging to be injected, willing for the pain to stop. His eyes were already glazed and a small track mark could be noted in his cubital fossa. Hotch knew then that this was going to hard to come back from. 

Hotch couldn’t get the torn expression from his lovers face out of his mind. Hotch was well aware of the impacts of the Hankel case, well aware of the total disarray that his addiction caused him. He was so proud three weeks earlier when he was presented with his five-year sobriety coin. He had gone with him to the meeting, held his hand and just enjoyed the fact that he hadn’t lost him to the disease that addiction is. But the torment from this case had thrown the youth into a whirlwind. He remembered vividly as the young doctor eyed off the small vials around the room that they had rescued him from. He remembered the craving that was written on the doctor's face.

He wanted to go with him to his meeting, to do what he had done three weeks prior, but Reid wanted to go alone, and Hotch always respected his wishes. So, he turned on the small lamp that sat in the window. He had picked it out months ago when they were on a case in Kansas. He saw it at a local market and just knew it would be perfect for their need. It was light enough that you could see it from the street, but not out of place. He remembered coming to Reid with his newfound purchase full of joy and support. And Reid had seemed so confused, not understanding the point of it. However, once Hotch explained, the man had relaxed and accepted the idea. This light was Hotch’s way of saying no matter what is going on in his life, no matter how bad the world looks and no matter what he may think of doing; Hotch would always be there. Be there to talk, to listen or just to hold him. To offer him counsel, to kick his ass to therapy or to simply drag him back from whatever dark hole he was in. That was the agreement. And it worked for Hotch too, if the light was off, Reid would know his man needed him. Technically, a light wasn’t really needed, but it just added to the symbolism and reinforcement of their love and support for each other.

Hotch was pattering around the kitchen, he had two mugs each with chamomile tea bags set in the curves of the ceramic containers. He knew too well that Reid loved coffee, but for these nights, tea was the preferred poison. He put some music on, sounds hummed through the apartment as he sat down at the table, staring at case files and wondering how Reid was doing. There was a small niggling factor saying, ‘he could just not come’, and it was always a worry, but he hadn’t not turned up yet. He was fully prepared to deal with the complete breakdown that may happen, he was prepared for silence, for anger, for him to walk in the room holding vials of his drug of choice. He was prepared and scared, but he just prayed that he would walk through that door. That their light agreement would be stronger than the addiction.

* * *

Reid felt broken, completely and utterly destroyed. His confidence and resilience lay in ruins around him and he craved to find a dealer. To find someone with access to dilaudid, to his escape, because he hurt, hurt more than ever before. He hurt more than when he was shot, more than when Gideon left with nothing but a note, more than when his school stripped him and left him tied to a football post for hours. And most importantly he hurt more than the situation that caused his addiction in the first place, more than what Tobias Hankel did to him.

He knew the reason it hurt more came down to his battle. Dilaudid was his kryptonite, and always will be. And even though Hankel was the start of a painful journey, he pushed through it. And it took a long time to get clean, stay clean and build up resilience to the many triggers and to the various situations that he saw on the job that caused his cravings to skyrocket. He had built that and after five years he had been stable enough to stand in a room full of drugs and not nick a couple of vials. He had been good; he had been strong. But, now, now it just hurt and any tool that he had in his arsenal to keep his cravings at bay was failing to his need to feel nothing.

Upon landing back in DC, he had taken off in search of a meeting. Aaron had offered to go with him, but he wanted to be alone. Beltway Clean Cops was only on Monday’s, so he found a local one to attend. He had never been to this one, so he chose to sit and listen, watch, hear; all while twisting his sobriety coin in his hands. Thinking and wishing that it would all go away, that the feeling of the unsub's hands on him would disappear. That his words would not be permanently imprinted on his mind. He started to zone out of the meeting. Memories flooding back in. He felt sick to his stomach as various flashes entered his mind. Tobias, school, Emily’s death, Aaron’s stabbing, his mum’s schizophrenic breaks, Owen Savage, Gideon leaving him and countless more. The final, being the complete enjoyment as their most recent unsub injected Reid with the substance ten times stronger than his usual drug of choice. He watched as the man obliterated any progress he had made and ultimately melting away his remaining strength and his will to live.

He left the meeting midway through, not able to cope with what was being said, while desperately fighting the urges to search for a fix. He could feel eyes watch him leave, those in the meeting didn’t comment, but they all knew where he was headed. The woman leading the group tried to stop him, but he ignored her and nearly ran out of the room. And then he was running, satchel over shoulder, hair fluttering in the wind. It was a cold night and soon enough rain began to fall from the blackened evening sky. He ran and he felt the rain soak through his clothes, the cold sinking into his skin as he searched for help.

He wanted an escape badly, wanted an opportunity to become dissociated to the pain from the last case. But as much as he wanted to draw up the controlling liquid, slide a needle into his vein and experience the cool rush that comes as it enters his system, he knew he wouldn’t come back again. He understood that he would never be able to climb back out of that hole. And at that thought he came to a stop on a familiar corner. He felt the freezing water surround his body as he stared at his shaking hands. This was his decision. He knew if he walked north, he would run into a drug den, one still current from a past case that dealt in dilaudid and other morphine derivatives. He could get his fix and experience that euphoric feeling that masks all pain. On the other hand, he could walk west towards the building that he could see from where he stood. Towards an apartment that held a man that would support him no matter what. So, he stood there, for a long time, letting the weather continue around him hoping the answer would just come to him. He looked up once more towards the apartment that held his man and saw a small light on. A tiny lamp that Aaron had found in a garbage dump of a market in Kansas months ago. The warming light invited him to come closer, to ignore his craving and go to his unit chief. To wrap his arms around the man and tell him his thoughts, feelings and ultimately how close he was to going rogue. In that moment he made up his mind and followed the beacon home.

* * *

It was approximately an hour before Hotch heard metal slot into the keyhole outside his apartment. He stood up immediately and went to the kitchen to flip the kettle on. It was technically already warm as he had boiled it once earlier thinking he heard Reid. He looked towards the door, waiting for the man to walk in, bracing for what may enter. And then a rain drenched Spencer tumbled through the door, his clothing in disarray, his hair waterlogged around his face and his hands shaking worse than a tree in a storm. His eyes had deep dark bags beneath them, exhaustion written over his face along with the various bruises setting into his neck and cheeks from his beating. He swung his saturated leather satchel over his head, wincing in pain as he did and dropping it against the wall, water splattering on the pain job. He closed the door lightly, while dropping his keys on the desk and looking up to the kitchen where Hotch stood. And Hotch just continued to prepare the tea, pouring the boiled water over the paper bags of herbs, before opening up a tin of chocolate chip cookies that Jack had made with Jess two days prior. He retrieved a small stack, placing them in Spencer’s favourite bowl, one that had mathematical equations carved into the material. 

At this point he looked up towards Reid, who just peered through his drenched locks at Hotch. He could see the fragmentation that the genius was going through. His eyes were pained, and it could have just been from his injuries, but he knew that Reid was struggling. Hotch stepped out from the kitchen, holding the mugs in one hand and the bowl of cookies in the other. He placed them on the coffee table before standing up in front of Reid. “Spence,” he said, the name filled with love and support, and a silent question asking, ‘what do you need?’ With that one-word, Reid went from in control to not and new tears began to flow freely, mixing with the rainwater already apparent on his face. He grabbed Hotch into a bone crushing embrace. He felt the water from the younger agent’s clothes soak into his own, he felt the cold and hoped that his heat permeated and warmed the man up. The embrace hurt Hotch a little, but he couldn’t care less, because Spence had returned, he had followed the beacon, the light he had left on and he had come home to him, come home to his help.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to quickly say that addiction is such a hard disease to battle. It is made easier when people in your life care. I myself have lived through my mothers alcoholism, and patients through my job with some type of addiction. If you are struggling with any addiction there are people out there that can help. ReachOut Australia is a fantastic resource to start with. If you are in need help urgently call Lifeline (13 11 14). (Australian Resources).  
> https://au.reachout.com/tough-times/addiction
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are appreciated. And if you have a suggestion for any future pieces let me know. 
> 
> Stay Safe All!


End file.
